Spellwork
by littlehound
Summary: Tonks is directed to clean and inspect the DADA classroom after Snape's sudden departure. Her expert work has unexpected but happy consequences. Kplus for a bit of language, not much at all. My firstever post.


Disclaimer: I own nothing even remotely involving these characters. All rights belong to JK Rowling.

Note: I have grown a bit tired of seeing the stories about Tonks as the semi-hysterical/depressed/moody/emotional female to Remus's self-denying male. So here's a story about Tonks as a competent auror doing a dangerous job, and the unexpected but welcome results of her professionalism and expertise. I hope I have adhered to canon as much as possible, so forgive any inconsistencies. Thanks.

Spellwork

She had been assigned the unenviable task of searching, cleaning, and securing not only Snape's living quarters, but also the entire Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and professor's office. To her relief but her superiors' chagrin and disbelief, Tonks hadn't really discovered anything of use. The most objectionable item she had found was one of the Weasleys' trick wands, wedged underneath a few books in a corner. Snape had been very thorough, carefully planning for the day when he would not be coming back. No journals, documents, dark objects. Nothing to help the Order (or the Ministry) in the war effort. Nonetheless, her bosses sent her back, hoping for some shred of information. She sensed early on in her assignment that the effort to find anything was futile and a waste of time. Still, Tonks did her duty, and quite thoroughly, too.

The morning of the funeral found her back in the classroom and professor's office, poking into any holes she had failed to overlook, even pulling up a few flagstones she thought looked a bit suspicious. She was happy for the work, as it distracted her for a while from the painful remainder of the day. Not only was there the anguish of losing Dumbledore, she assumed Remus would be around at some point. She hadn't seen him since the night of Dumbledore's death. After her outburst in the hospital wing, she watched him leave the grounds to apparate. He had requested she not follow him, and she obliged.

After at least three sweeps of the rooms, Tonks had still found nothing, save for a few spiders and a lot of dust. She was glad Ron was not around.

She stalked the perimeter of the entire room, looking, touching places on the floor and walls, even smelling. She effortlessly muttered complex spells as she walked, still searching and having to guard against anything she still might find. Tonks was so adept and in her element that she was muttering one spell and using her wand with one hand while doing a bit of wandless magic with the other. Her concentration was so intense that she did not once trip.

There was one spell she had not yet cast, complex and dangerous: the _malaccio totalis_.

The minister himself told her that it need not be used, if she had convinced herself that nothing was there. If she cast it, it would call out any remaining dark objects, things, or threats that still lay hidden in the room. It was an extremely dangerous spell; that's why she hadn't used it yet, and why Kingsley and Moody had both urged her not to do it. Moody had been particularly emphatic in his admonishment, but it was up to Tonks to decide to carry out the spell.

It was so dangerous because it left the witch or wizard who successfully cast it in a very precarious position. The danger was that one had to be alone in a room to cast it. If the witch or wizard was not alone, it didn't work, and all that would come crawling out of the woodwork would be a few bugs, nothing magical at all.

But if it _did_ work—it could be one against a possible host of dark and terrible things. That's why one had to search thoroughly before casting, to reduce the risks. And only the one who had searched the room or area beforehand could cast it. It was a spell of last resort for dire situations.

Tonks thought this was one of those situations.

If she _didn't_ cast it, there was a risk that something that Snape had left behind could threaten the castle, causing another security breach. And she was the only one who _could_ cast it with any skill.

For reasons neither she nor anyone else could explain, she was an expert at the _malaccio totalis. _The first time she cast it, she was in training with Moody. They had gone to the old dark house in a strange corner of London for some hands-on experience. He left her alone in the large dining room, chuckling to himself as he waited for Tonks to perform the incantations.

Upon hearing a commotion in the room, he stormed in, and was so shocked that he actually lowered his wand in the face of possible danger. Moody hadn't believed Tonks could do it, and he wasn't prepared. He never had a student able to successfully perform the spell, and even Moody himself was not very good at it. So when the boggarts appeared _en masse_, he flinched and jumped like a nervous cat, unprepared. Tonks was ready, and banished all twenty herself. Moody was mad--really at himself--but so impressed he let her skip the next two days of training. It was the only time she had seen him taken unawares, and she was proud to have had a hand in such a rare event. Deep down, she always wondered if her ability to cast this particular spell was the real reason she passed her auror trials. Moody was not about to let someone get away that could cast that thing so effortlessly--stealth be damned. It was the last time he underestimated the powers of Nymphadora Tonks.

She marched to the middle of the empty classroom (she had already inspected and vanished the desks), and faced the front. A quick swish of her wand opened the door at the top of the curved stairway leading to the professor's office. If she was going to cast this spell, it needed to cover the office as well--might even have to cast a separate one up there to be sure.

Tonks took several deep breaths and raised her arms, her long powder blue robes draping gracefully from her arms. She remained there immobilized for a few moments, concentrating and bracing herself mentally and physically for what could happen.

Whispering the incantation, she kept her eyes wide open, wand high and moving very quickly. Tonks slowly rotated as she addressed the spell to the entirety of the room. She was shaking, just a bit, wondering what was going to hurl toward her at any moment.

Behind her, from the door to the classroom that led to the hall, she heard movement, as if something was being scraped against the floor. The scratching and scraping was accompanied by a very short and very startled cry. She spun, but could not see anything. Sensing something—likely dark--was there, being pulled right toward her, Tonks quickly cast three spells to remove any concealment charms, completely bind whatever the thing was, and petrify it--just to be safe.

To her amazement, the bound and rigid form of Remus Lupin appeared at her feet.

She stared at him in horror and confusion for a moment. Snapping herself from her stupor, Tonks freed him, and knelt by his side to help him sit up.

"Are you alright?"

Remus sat up, shaking his head, breathing heavily.

"I think so, just startled is all."

She sat by him on the floor and studied him for a moment to determine if he was being truthful with her. Convinced that he was, she let her anger break forth.

"Where the hell were you? I didn't see you. Didn't you know what I was doing?" Tonks demanded. She wanted to jinx him on the spot, but figured he'd already had enough.

He looked at her apologetically. "I came down here just to look at my old classroom and found you. You were so into your work, I didn't want to disturb you."

"But where were _you_?" she again demanded.

"Put a disillusionment charm on myself and stood in the doorway" he admitted. "Rather surprised you didn't detect me."

She screwed up her face into a scowl. "Why did you do such a thing? Didn't you want me to see you?" She was hurt by this possibility.

"I didn't want you to see me because I didn't want to disturb you. When I first arrived, you had your back to the door, and I just started watching you. After a bit, I became so fascinated and awed with your spellwork that I put the charm on myself so I could watch. Incredible to watch an auror like that in action."

Tonks stared at him in disbelief, mouth agape.

"Remus, that was an extremely dangerous thing to do."

"I know that now."

"I could have—" she paused, not wanting to admit the amount of harm she could have wrought--"inflicted some serious bodily harm if I hadn't chosen the spells I did."

"I know, I know. So why did you choose those particular spells?"

She was surprised by the question. "Not really sure. Just what came to mind first, and Moody taught me not to question my gut when it comes to defense. No time to equivocate when your life is on the line."

Exasperated, Tonks stood, offering him her hand. She pulled him up and he began to dust off his worn robes. Noting her wand was still in her right hand, she holstered it onto her left arm underneath her robes.

"You're the former professor," Tonks began in a mocking tone. "Once I got to the middle of the room and started to rotate, didn't you know what was about to happen? Why didn't you leave?"

"As I said, I became so impressed with your work that I didn't realize until the last moment—too late—what you were about to do."

Remus flicked a dead spider off his robes and shook his head.

"That's such a complex, perilous spell, Tonks. Aren't there any restrictions on casting it?"

"Yes, only aurors can cast it," she replied. "The Ministry has deemed it too dangerous for just anyone to attempt."

"I certainly agree with that limitation. But aren't you required to have anyone help you, be standing by to assist you, in case of emergency?"

"No. Could interfere with the spell, make it ineffective."

"Do you need permission from someone higher up to do it?"

"Of course not," she said, creasing her brow. "I have the inherent authority as an auror to execute the spell. Aurors have a great deal of autonomy when it comes to the risks they are willing to take." His questions had annoyed her, for Tonks thought he should have already known the rights and responsibilities invested by the Ministry in its aurors.

Remus shook his head again and sighed. "I guess I just didn't want to believe you were about to cast it. I have only heard about it, never actually seen it cast. _I_ certainly couldn't do it."

Tonks raised an eyebrow slightly, a strand of her dull brown hair falling into her face. "Didn't think I could do it, eh?" she charged. Again, a pang of hurt.

"Not at all. I was just hoping that you weren't about to put yourself in such danger. Who knows what could have leapt out at you?"

"I'm more than capable of handling what _could_ have happened," she said flatly, no trace of challenge in her voice. It was a statement of fact.

Remus could not deny this, and he bowed his head to Tonks in a gesture of submission. "You certainly did."

She was surprised by his quick agreement and did not respond.

"And, like I said," he continued as he brushed at his robes, "Rapt by witnessing your work, I remembered a moment too late that I happen to be a dark creature." He said it very matter-of-factly, without any trace of sadness or regret.

At this pronouncement, her face fell and she turned away from him, walking to the windows, her robes gently swishing over the floor. Remus was oblivious to her mood change as Tonks drifted away from him, while he continued to remove bits of detritus from himself.

"That would be the first time you failed to remember you're a so-called dark creature where it involves me," she said softly, staring glassy-eyed out the ajar window.

He remained standing, alone, in the middle of the room, having stopped his ministrations to his robes. Remus looked at her, and she would not turn to him, tears falling from her eyes to splatter the front of her robes. At first, he did not understand what he had said to cause her pained reaction. As recognition lit his mind, his stomach began to ache.

Remus looked at his shoes, not knowing what to say or do. He had forgotten about his _condition_ in that moment leading up to her execution of the spell. And his surprise at finding Tonks towering above him, a terrifying look on her face, wand at the ready, completely at her mercy, had put her in a different light. Tonks's abilities, powers suddenly were completely new and foreign to him. His perceptions shaken, he looked up at her anew.

How could he have underestimated her abilities, her strength…her love? He told himself that he had done no such thing, that he had distanced himself from her for the most logical of reasons. He had seen her in action, but he had never been on the wrong side of her wand like this until today. But her expertise, willingness, and _right_ to take on great risks when she chose to do so told him that he had been lying to himself, or just not wanting to see it. Remus knew she was an excellent auror. Yet he needed this not-so-subtle exhibition of her powers and authority to shatter his long-held misconceptions about allegedly protecting her.

Tonks looked down at her robes, the front now completely sprinkled with her tears, and released a pent-up sob. Drawing in a long breath, she spoke, but did not look at him.

"I think this place is clean. I need to go report to Moody and—and freshen up for later today."

Before she could move, he was before her at the window. She gazed at him, a bit startled.

"Yes?" she tentatively offered. "Is something wrong?" She was genuinely confused. Her left hand casually wiped away remaining tears. Tonks was no longer embarrassed by her tears in front of Remus. She had certainly let him see plenty of them.

He took her tear-dampened hands in his own.

"I'm sorry."

She threw off his hands with a violent, sudden jerk.

"We've been though this, Lupin. No pity for me, thanks. And I will no longer be a party in assisting you indulge in your own. I'll thank you to leave me to my own struggles."

He was surprised by her bitter mien, and realized what Tonks was thinking. "Just a moment, if you please," he asserted in a polite but authoritative tone, taking her hands again, this time clasping them a bit tighter to command her attention. It was her turn to be startled. She took a step away from him, almost in a defensive move. He noted her suspicious action and demeanor and suddenly felt very awkward in her presence.

"That was a brilliant display of defensive spellwork."

"Thanks for noticing," she retorted.

He paused, and looked down at their clasped hands before looking to her tense, small face. "I-I have misjudged you."

She was insulted and wrenched her hands from him again.

Tonks snorted in derision. "So you didn't believe me all those times I told you I could deal with your _condition_---and _not_ just in my _professional_ capacity?"

Remus didn't answer her, not having one. His misplaced concern for her well being had completely overlooked something very important: Nymphadora herself. Her beliefs, her powers, her choices. He felt shame for his hubris, and guilt for its consequences as he looked at her tousled, thin hair.

Tonks rolled her eyes, put a palm to her forehead, feeling the hot blush of frustration and grief. "This is the same old discussion, Lupin. _You know how I feel_. I don't know why you have the need to yet _again_ elucidate your position on this issue to me. You made yourself very clear in front of everyone the other night." She walked around him and began to leave the room.

"I no longer hold the same position."

She stopped almost to the door, her back to him. Tonks couldn't bring herself to look at him, to hope. She waited for his next words.

"I admit that I misjudged you, the extent of your powers and your abilities. I was wrong to not give you the freedom to make your own decision when it comes to--what I am. I was _wrong."_

At this she turned, but did not go back to him, where he remained at the far window.

"Did you know that everyone elsewho has ever encountered me in my capacity as dark creature has done me much more harm than you did today, even those that have not been out to hurt or destroy me?"

"But most of them encountered you whilst you were transformed, didn't they?"

"That's true," Remus admitted. "But the spell you cast today didn't make that distinction, and you couldn't even see what it was. It still pulled me right to your feet. All you knew was it was dark and coming straight for you."

"Well, yes. But so what?"

"You _knew_ you were dealing with a dark creature the moment you heard something," he reiterated.

"Yes, I just said that," Tonks replied impatiently.

"So why didn't you cast stronger spells? It's what anyone else would have done."

"I'm _not_ anyone else. Besides, what I did worked, didn't it? Even if you had been transformed and lurking about, hoping to pounce upon me, the outcome would have been the same: I would have incapacitated you."

"Exactly. Your skills are—incredible. Other than maybe the Marauders, no one else has so skillfully dealt with me as a dark creature—and as mercifully. And while there are certainly no guarantees that I will never hurt you--or you me--"

"You _are_ just saying the same things," she interrupted.

"I'm not. I just told you---I've been wrong about you---about us."

After he said these simple words, her hair began to curl and turn a shade of light pink. He saw the change, and smiled.

"And your claim to poverty?" she asked tentatively.

He looked down. "While undeniably true, it has been a convenient excuse for me. I freely admit that."

Remus glanced up at her. Tonks was still near the doorway, and he could tell she still did not understand, or, if she did, was too suspicious of his professed change of heart to say anything. She too had put up walls to stave off the pain.

"If I could allow my school friends to take the risk, to get close to me, I see that I have no right to deny you the right to make a similar informed choice. If they could cope with me, you certainly can. And your display today of your considerable gifts has forced me significantly alter my perception of things."

She remained in her spot, and could feel her hair changing, the color coming back into her skin.

"That's a terribly professorial way to confess your love for someone," she said in a hoarse whisper. Her hair was now the color of the sunset, striped with bits of orange. She still couldn't move and more tears fell, except this time she was grinning.

"Can't help myself. What better place to declare it, than right here, my former scholastic domain?" Lupin replied with a graceful sweep of his arm to the room.

Tonks still couldn't move, unable to believe what was happening. So Remus had insulted her by underestimating her. He had hurt her with his misconceptions in many ways. Now he was acknowledging to her he was wrong. Had he really been forced to change his mind just because she executed some spell?

That really would be magic.

"Nymphadora?" he asked tentatively, not understanding why she didn't move away from the door.

_Her name_. She hadn't heard him use it in months. She shuddered.

She slowly walked to him as he remained stationary by the window.

"No more excuses?" Tonks asked.

"None."

"No more hesitation?"

"None."

"No more doubts?"

He shook his head. "Of course, I've known for months now where _you_ stand on all this. Well, I would never _presume_ to know where you still stand, even after what you said in the hospital wing---but I certainly hope that you still feel…" Remus began to fidget nervously with the edge of his right sleeve and was in danger of outright babbling.

She stopped in front of him, looking up at his face, which was still a bit dusty from his trip across the floor.

"Remus, I'm standing right in front of you."

Drawn to each other for the past two years, they had actually never physically acted upon their feelings, even to kiss. Their only real contact had been a few comforting hugs, and most of those were at St. Mungo's after the events of last year. Remus the gentleman had not allowed himself to indulge his own feelings and needs to any extent, only to give Tonks false impressions and crushed expectations. Although he had never flatly denied to her how he actually felt about her, Remus had also never let Tonks get close enough—physically and emotionally—for either of them to be able to act upon those feelings.

Until this moment.

As the distance between them completely vanished, her hair curled into tight ringlets, exploding into an incandescent red she had never before displayed.


End file.
